Between These Keys
by surry
Summary: Things have quieted down in Zootopia, and Nick has grown too comfortable with his new life. He takes up an old talent which soon evolves into something he never imagined and is afraid to show anyone he knows, so he keeps it a guarded secret. He wants to wait until the perfect moment to impress Judy with his skill, but a strange turn of events may never let that happen.
1. Chapter 1

A crack of gunfire rang out behind Nick Wilde, snapping him out of a mild daydream.

He quickly regained his stature, poised and ready, and lifted his weapon.

It was midday on a hot Friday and he had spent the morning shift doing regular patrols with his partner, Judy Hopps, around Downtown Zootopia. With a smoking gun in his paws, another coffee beside him, along with several mags, he felt the shooting range was the place to be. His vest was very clean, as were the ear muffs resting comfortably on his head. He had grown to be very particular with his work clothing.

He clicked the safety and set the gun on the counter, checked his new smartphone for any texts, then took a sip of his drink. "Nothing from Judy," he remarked snidely, loading a new mag; no one else could hear him mumbling to himself over the arbitrary sound of gunfire. "Where is she, anyway? She knows very well I have appointments to keep."

Nick was, of course, being sarcastic. He had all the time in the world, especially now that Zootopia was, for the most part, quiet and peaceful. They had made barely ten arrests in the last month, though they had no known quotas to fill. He found solace in his time with Judy. But, as the weeks went by, he began to hatch a plan, a plan that he had divulged to no one.

His phone buzzed, and he quickly snapped it up, lifting one of his ear muffs. "Tony!" he exclaimed, putting the phone to his ear. "Yeah. Mhm. Yeah, yeah I know it's loud here, but tell me, whadaya think?" He set the gun down and peered around the corners of his stall, everyone still focused on their targets. "Really? Yeah, I know it's been years, but you're the only one I trust with this. How about you let me come tool around on it, for old times sake, check the tuning, give you a show?" He let the dog speak, uncertainty crept into his sentences.

"After midnight? That's it? That's the only time?

...

Because you've known me forever, that's why.

...

Fine, fine. I'll be there tonight, at 12:01. Sharp! See ya!"

Nick took a deep breath, and he rested the phone down on the counter. He checked around again, still no one listening, then picked up his gun and resumed what he was doing. He smiled, pleased with himself.

Nearly ten minutes passed before he felt a familiar paw pat his back, just below his vest. It was Judy, taking her place in the slightly shorter stall next to his. Nick occupied the particular one adjacent for just that reason. It was almost as if their stalls were made to fit together.

"Carrots!" he chirped, trying to suppress a smile. "Long time, no see."

"Sorry, Nick!" was how she breathlessly responded; she appeared to have some difficulty lugging around her gun case. "You know, distractions and all." Judy plopped the case on the counter with an ungraceful thud and opened it, revealing a shiny weapon and her other equipment. She was already wearing her thick vest.

"Ha," Nick started mocking her as she put on some tinted goggles. "Miss 'I've Got the World on a String' is distracted? I think not, rather impossible."

"I'm serious, Nick," she said playfully. "You know I came here as fast as I could." She prepared her gun expertly, no flashy movements necessary, and quickly fired off six rounds downrange before he could even respond.

"So what did they do with him?" Nick asked, loading another mag.

"Hmm ... let's see," she mulled, rolling her eyes. "Court date is set for Monday. You're appearing for that, by the way."

"Nope," Nick retorted, still smiling.

"Yep," Judy fired back, flashing him the same smile.

"Ok, fine," he sighed. "Then you owe me dinner, and it better be fancy, and I swear if it's another vegan place—"

"Um ... actually, Nick," she cut him off, setting her gun down; she caught the fox off guard, along with his full attention. "We need to talk about something."

The fox stopped everything, and slowly removed his eyewear and muffs, feeling a pit open up in his stomach. He ignored the sounds of gunfire around them. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't good news?"

"I don't know yet," was all she managed.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to Savannah Central was an uneventful one at this time of night. Nick peered over at the bundle of old and tattered papers laying in the seat next to him, most of them he forgot were still in his possession. His car was an old junker, and it had taken only a month of diligent studying to renew his license. He was still a bit wary of driving at night, especially at these hours, but his green eyes adjusted to the dark easily. After a ten minute or so cruise through Zootopia, he had found the place; it was a brick facade, snuggled in the midst of a row of others just like it. A blue neon sign proudly hung over the small door, plainly big enough so only mammals of a preferred size could enter.

"Tony's," Nick murmured, putting his car in park on the side of the road. "Please tell me you came through."

Nick very conspicuously snatched up his papers, got out of his car, and ran up to the red brick building, all while various nocturnal rodents stared at him. He glared right back at them. This was not the latest nor greatest part of town, especially after the sun had baked the city all day. An unpleasant thickness hung in the air; it was almost hard to breathe. Nick knocked on the door with three taps in quick succession. A few moments later, a wall of fuzz colored like roasted coffee beans opened the door, standing at least two heads taller than Nick.

"Nicky!" shouted the chocolate labrador wearing a white apron; his voice was low and guttural. He unfurled a hefty paw around Nick and scooped the fox inside. "They told me you'd never be back! But here you are! In the flesh! In the fur! What should I tell em' now? Eh?"

"Tony-y-y," Nick chuckled nervously, nearly dropping his papers on the floor. "How are you? That's the real question! I'm so so sorry it's been so long since I've paid a visit. My new job has been nuts! But you're a good friend, as always."

The lab motioned to the bar with his tawny eyes and Nick followed uneasily. "Oh you know me," he said. "Every night's a battle to keep out the nocturnals, but I won't bash on em' too much, seeing as you are one. Anyways, I'd do anything to help ya, Nicky." He resumed cleaning the counter with a rag and upturning chairs, presumably closing up shop for the night.

Nick set his papers on a worn, wooden table. The whole inside of the building had a dim orange glow filling it; in one corner the fox noticed a heavy covering laying over something rectangular and eerily familiar. "Gosh, Tony," Nick stammered. "I gotta' tell you, the place looks great, I love what you've ... done with everything."

The dog laughed. "Thank you lad," he responded curtly. "No need for tiptoeing around it. Go ahead. She's waiting for ya'." Tony had progressed to another table, wiping it down, looking for streaks, while Nick plodded over to the covered shape.

He pulled the surprisingly heavy, leathery cloth, letting it fall to the floor with an egregious thud, revealing a shining amber piano nearly twice as tall as the fox. He walked around it, scrutinizing the grain, imperfections; yet, in the end it never really mattered to him. Nick pulled out the seat hiding under the keyboard and hopped up with little effort, letting his tail hang off the back, barely touching the floor. He delicately lifted the fall board to reveal rows of white and black teeth, staring back at him dauntingly.

"Woah," he sighed, half-smiling, placing his most left claw on the pearly white key of C. "Never thought I'd be in the captain's chair again." He lifted his other paw to a few nearby keys, otherwise remaining perfectly still. "C Major." Nick pressed down and let the chord ring throughout the building. It was clearly out of tune, not as satisfying as he had hoped for.

"How long has it been, Nicky?" Tony asked; the dog had stopped what he was doing.

"Six or seven years ..." Nick murmured; his voice trailed off. An uncomfortable silence buried its roots between them.

The lab hated to see Nick sulk. He sauntered over to the fox's papers, wiped his paws dry on his apron, and rummaged through the pile of sheet music. "No sense in whinin' 'bout it now. You want to do this the right way? Only right way is trial by fire." His eyes spotted several sheets among the few dozen or so; they were withered considerably, some noticeable coffee stains graced every other page. "Oh ... now here's a prize," he smirked, the fox was barely listening at this point. "Tell me if this sounds familiar."

"Alright, hit me with it," Nick muttered.

"Wolfgang, Sonata Sixteen, C Major?" Tony waited and gauged Nick's reaction, which was mostly nonexistent.

The fox heaved another long sigh, nearly listless, before lifting both paws to the keys. To the lab's astonishment, Nick began playing the melody with his right paw, several notes at a time, before increasing the tempo. Tony instantly recognized this song, an old classic.

But something forced Nick to stop playing.

"Need the music, Nicky?" the lab asked, holding up the stained papers.

"No." Nick shook his head. "Actually, this was the first song I ever learned top to bottom." He began playing the harmony with his left paw, seemingly out of nowhere, then brought back in the familiar melody with his right. "I might be out of practice, but I could play this in my sleep," he remarked coolly.

"Well," Tony chuckled; he pulled out a chair and sat down. "Color me impressed. If only that beaut' of an instrument didn't sound like camel dung, I'd say come on in an' play it anytime you want."

"Wow," said Nick, starting to smile and still only half-listening. "I can't believe—wait what?!" The fox abruptly stopped, bewildered. "You'd honestly let me play it whenever I want?"

"Oh, well maybe, not exactly. We'd have to work something out." Tony started fumbling through more of Nick's papers; the fox grumbled, unamused. "Maybe I pay to get it sounding good first, then you come play some nights for free? It could draw in some business on slow nights. How's that sound?"

Nick turned away and stared down at the keys, pondering the proposal for a solid minute. He met Tony's stoic gaze when he had finished thinking.

"Deal."

"There's my boy." The dog flashed a white, toothy grin. "Now, keep playing, and why don't you tell me how life's been treatin' ya?"

"Fine," quipped the fox, sarcastically. "But it's your own sad, sad funeral, though."

They both laughed as Nick started playing again.


	3. Chapter 3

Tuesdays were boring, especially for Zootopia's finest. This one was particularly pitiful due to the fact that it peaked at 102 degrees right around noon. With the air conditioning on full blast, a police cruiser offered barely any respite from the intense heat, but Judy and Nick always made the best of a hopeless situation. The fox slurped loudly on a blueberry flavored MEGAFREEZE© slush drink, careful not to get any on his navy blue uniform and mulling over driving records of passing vehicles on the police laptop. Judy had parked their cruiser off a busy street in Downtown Zootopia, idly watching rows of vehicles pass through a jammed four-way intersection.

"So?" Nick chimed in, taking a break from a self-induced sugar rush. "You haven't told me how the date went?"

"Are you jealous?" Judy responded with a sly grin.

"Mmm ... maybe." Nick rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Is he good-looking? You haven't even told me that much. How about smart? Or maybe—lemme guess, he has a _great_ sense of humor?" He poked her shoulder, which she casually brushed off. "None of the above, then?"

Judy scanned the passing cars intently. "He is all of those things, perhaps maybe a bit more. I'm not too sure yet, honestly."

"Oh, sounds serious," he fired back, faking interest. "Figures, another rabbit swoops in to steal mine. Foxes just can't win, can they?"

"He's a hare, actually," she corrected him, still smiling and looking out her window. Something caught her eye. "Wait—run this one."

"Matching description?" Nick's ear perked up. "Fire away, Mrs. Lieutenant Hare." His joke went unnoticed as he readied the search function on the computer. Judy never broke her concentration.

"ZXT-1040!" she blurted, shifting the cruiser into drive. The fox typed in the characters furiously and the database spat out an answer.

"That's it!" Nick shouted, turning on their sirens within a fraction of a second. "Stolen vehicle, baby!"

The silver sports car took off from a dead stop, banking a hard right down a busy street, bobbing and weaving through traffic; Judy peeled out in hot pursuit, tires screeching. Every other car immediately stopped when they saw their flashing lights. "Dispatch!" Judy called over the radio, spinning the steering wheel in horribly jerky movements. "10-99, in pursuit of reported stolen Baa-serati. Heading east down the Main Strip! Heavy volume! Send backup ahead of our position, intercept!" She floored the gas pedal.

Nick was holding onto the door handle for dear life. "Carrots, please don't kill us!"

"What's the matter?" she jabbed. "I thought you liked going full throttle!" Judy gave every car on the road a wide berth, or as much as she could allow at these speeds. Pedestrians piled off the sidewalk as the sports car jumped the curb, half on the road, half not.

"Well, yeah!" Nick retorted. "I just thought I'd have more time to wake up first!"

As their cruiser rapidly approached the next intersection, they watched in disbelief as the vehicle, already far ahead of them, clipped the side of a traffic light, bystanders frantically leapt out of the way; the vehicle spun out into the open square, passing cars barely dodged, skidding around it. Horns started blaring. The shining car screeched to a stop after rotating a full two times, leaving long, curved streaks in the road.

"Slow down, slow down!" Nick fumbled with the radio, adrenaline pumping. "10-72, s-suspect vehicle has stopped, backup report to Zootopia Square!"

Their cruiser burst onto the scene as others funneled out of the way. Judy assertively parked in front of the vehicle, safely sandwiching it between them and two other sedans. The partners hopped out, stayed low to the ground, and approached the vehicle with guns drawn. More sirens could be heard fast approaching. Nick had closest proximity to the driver's side; the passenger's side was blocked. "Get out of the car!" he yelled.

Judy darted around the back of the sports car as low as possible, taking advantage of her size, and got settled into a better position, flanking the suspect, weapon still drawn. "You're surrounded!" she declared, reaffirming Nick.

The door jerked open, swinging outward haphazardly. Nick advanced, ears forward, laser-focused. "Paws up! Don't try anything!" the fox spurted out, struggling to overcome the grueling humidity and stagnant air with every bated breath.

"F-fine!" A set of grayish paws went skyward, complying with Nick's demands. A large, disheveled timber wolf shakily stepped out of the car, clearly panicked. His green tank top had several sizable holes in it. "You got me," he muttered; his voice sounded like he had swallowed some barbed wire.

"On the ground," Judy dryly commanded, visibly relieved that the suspect followed their orders; her gun stayed trained on the wolf's center of mass.

Nick neatly holstered his weapon and took out his cuffs from his belt. "Now, behind your back," said the fox, sounding annoyed. The wolf complied again, still shaken from the ordeal. "Thank you, kind sir." Judy stifled a giggle at Nick's sarcasm, watching the fox easily latch the wolf's hefty paws together behind his back. She lowered her weapon. Nick continued, "You're under arrest for being in possession of a stolen vehicle, evading police custody, endangerment of public safety, yadda-yadda-yadda ..." he trailed off.

Judy looked about, now growing faintly aware of all the camera phones fixed upon them, capturing this moment, and all of the mammals watching. There were at least a hundred quiet voices surrounding them. Downtown Zootopia Square was the most densely populated area of the whole city. This would surely be on the news.

Nick paid them no mind as he escorted the suspect back to their cruiser, quickly reciting to him his Miranda rights before filing the wolf into the chilly back seat. Four more cruisers filed slowly onto the scene, turning off their sirens one by one. Two officers, a leopard and a rhino, stepped out of one vehicle and began clearing the area of pedestrians. The others started the arduous task of directing traffic around the crime scene.

The fox strolled back over to Judy, finally getting over the heat of the day, but he noticed her smile had faded.

"What's the matter, Carrots?" he asked warmly. "Look, I know I said don't kill us back there, but I take it all back now. That was some stellar driving! Especially for a rabbit." A tiny grin was starting to break through, Nick could see it. She stared vacantly into the crowd that was now dispersing. He put his paw on her shoulder and their eyes finally met. "Joking aside, thanks for having my back, Carrots. I'd be toast without you." His constant prodding had worked, and she finally gave him the smile he was looking for.

"You've gotten a lot better," she chirped. "Perhaps you wouldn't be toast, maybe just a golden brown or darker shade of red."

"Oh, a compliment!" He winked at her. "A small one, but, hey, thank heaven for small mercies."

"What?" she asked, perplexed by his choice of words.

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "It's just something my mom used to tell me. Probably a saying from the old fox country."

Two other officers, a polar bear and a tiger, approached the stolen car and began inspecting the inside for evidence. The expensive car had only one major dent on the exterior, roughly the size of a basketball, just over the rear wheel well.

"Aren't you worried about everyone that saw?" Judy asked.

"Should I be?" Nick raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'll admit, it's just dandy when a predator reinforces negative stereotypes like that. Could you imagine if he had hit someone, or even a child? Not only that, we both know how much good a viral news story can do for this city."

Normally, Nick's sarcasm about the Night Howlers incident would have stung more, but she knew she was forgiven for that a long time ago.

"But when they see you out here, Nick," Judy started, "You change their minds, you break their stereotypes. You certainly broke mine."

Nick smiled brightly at her, switching off his usual aloof persona. "We did that together, Carrots."

Judy nodded, returning the warm gesture. "We did, didn't we?"

"Mhmm." Nick crossed his arms, suddenly thinking of something. "Hey—um, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Nick," she responded, playfully mocking him.

"D-do you like ... classical music?" he asked inquisitively.


	4. Chapter 4

A fire roared before the stone hearth of Tony's, a classy establishment, to be sure, and the inside was again overflown with an amber flickering. The lab was cleaning, wiping, picking things up, all while looking puzzled at the fox playing his recently renovated piano. Nick thundered away, striking torrents of rich chords, faster and faster, crescendoing to what could safely be said was his maximum volume. He glared at the keys with hot intensity, almost bearing his teeth, frustrated. A heavy paw slammed down on the wood in front of him, producing an odious whip-cracking noise.

Nick abruptly stopped.

"Oh!" He shrunk in his seat when he noticed the huge ball of grizzly fur next to him. "T-tony, s-sorry—I just—"

"Relax, Nicky," the lab said calmly, expertly concealing his annoyance. "Something's been buggin' you all night. I can see it. Was it cuz' of all the 'Happy Birthday's? I know you hate playing that one, but that was part of the deal. Y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," Nick moped. He glanced at the clock behind the bar area. 12:37. "It wasn't even that, really. I just didn't have a terrific day, that's all."

"That's not it." Tony shrugged his broad shoulders. "Don't lie to this old dog. I can tell these things just by looking at ya'. And a bad day at work wouldn't make you want to murder my piano, which was expensive to fix—you're welcome, by the way."

Nick laughed half-heartedly and started flipping through pages on the stand in front of him, almost like it was a nervous tic. Tony, grumbling at his obvious brushing off, grabbed the pages Nick was just recently reading music from and stared at them. His eyes widened in horror.

"Yeesh," Tony groaned. "That'll do it, too. You're really going at this with everything you've got, aren't you? I—mean—I can't even pronounce this guy's name."

"Ram-man-eh-noff," Nick stressed every syllable for him. "Only one of the greatest composers for the piano to have ever lived—he could barely play any of his own stuff, on account of being a ram and having hooves and all."

Tony gave him the pages back, grinning. "But I'm sure a capable fox like you has no problem with this. And I'm sure that playing 'Happy Birthday' over and over is a cake walk for you, boring as hell."

"It is," Nick admitted glumly, pondering over the keys before him. "Well, not exactly. I'm still missing a lot of notes, key changes ... I thought it'd be easier than this."

"Just keep practicing, Nicky." The lab's smile shimmered in the orange glow. "And make absolutely certain that you never give up time with friends for this stupid old thing. Like your rabbit friend, for instance, when can I meet her?" His features lit up. "You should bring her in here some time!"

"No, I can't." Nick's pointy ears drooped. "She has a boyfriend now."

"Ahh." Tony smirked uneasily, sounding disappointed. "There's the culprit. That's what's been eating you this whole time? You never mentioned the boyfriend before. You like her, don't you, Nicky?"

The fox felt his cheeks get hot. "N-no! T-that's not it!" Nick stammered. "Well ... I—I don't know—b-but I'm not even her type anyway, or species, for that matter. She's better off with him." He sulked on the piano bench, folding his arms uncomfortably.

"Ehh," Tony rolled his eyes. "I've heard that trash plenty of times before, mostly from myself actually." The dog meandered back toward the counter, humming an old tune to himself.

"Boyfriend." Nick harshly reminded him.

"I've heard that excuse too, plenty'a times." The lab pointed back at him, meeting the fox with his golden eyes. "My wife had a boyfriend—I had a girlfriend! It didn't matter. It happened. If it's meant to happen, it'll happen, Nicky. She hated me the first year we worked together, did you know that? She couldn't stand me. She went home and told her mom everything she hated about me, too."

The fox broke his attention, twiddling his digits, letting out an overlong sigh.

"So tell me this, Nick," said the lab; he audibly cleared his throat. "You don't say hello to me for years, you call me up, come back, I pay to fix up that piece-of-work for ya—" he motioned toward the piano, "—and you come practice your heart out every night ... It just makes no sense to me. You're a cop now, too. Where did this confidence come from? What's changed about you?"

Nick thought silently on his bench for, at the very least, a full two minutes, letting Tony's words sink in, take root, and fester. The clock behind the bar kept ticking, seeming to grow louder and louder, even despite the crackling of the fireplace. The chocolate lab impatiently went back to work, shaking his head, and resumed wiping down the main counter.

"It's—Judy," Nick finally blurted out. "J-judy ... changed me."

Tony flashed his signature white, toothy grin, canines and all. "And?" was all he asked.

"And," Nick followed his lead, "when I'm around her, I just want to be the best that I can be. There, I said it, are you happy now? I want to be more than just a fox."

The dog stifled a lowly chuckle under his breath, not even opening his mouth. He wandered the ten or so paces back over to Nick and placed his broad paw evenly on the fox's shoulder.

"And there you have it," the dog said reassuringly. "If this rabbit was just a friend and nothing more, you probably wouldn't be here right now. But you just proved to me, and, more importantly, yourself, that she's more than that." Nick noticed a single tear in Tony's left eye, although he smiled. "Nick, a long time ago, before my wife passed, I realized something. A friend can bring out the _good_ in you, certainly, but only the love of your life can bring out the _best_ in you."

And with that, Tony released the fox from his grip. He could see Nick struggling to process their exchange of words. He shook his head.

"If he really makes her happy," Nick started, "then I'm not going to stop her. This guy, Jack, if he really means everything to her, then I'm letting her go. I don't want to be the loose end holding her back. She deserves only the best."

The dog shrugged his heavy shoulders again; he was still smiling, slightly annoying the small fox. "Something tells me that's exactly what she'll get," the dog sighed.


	5. Chapter 5

The Zootopia Police Department was a busy hub of blue shirts and pants, ringing phones, and clacking of hooves and claws upon the wooden floors. Beams of sunlight piled through the front windows, illuminating the inside with a hopeful, white haze; everyone was occupied, working, but enthusiastic. Everyone was working, all except for Nick Wilde.

The fox had come in a little after seven o'clock that morning, late, and greeted Clawhauser in his typical Nick fashion, with a simple wink and nod. He then strolled off down the long hall toward the main office, humming a tune familiar only to himself while his right digits danced on his pant leg, playing invisible piano keys in his head. He carefully clutched a styrofoam cupholder in his other paw, two large coffees in tow, one black and one made with everything but the kitchen sink. Every now and then he had to cautiously tiptoe around various obstacles in his path, mostly huge mammals swathed in shades of blue, walking the opposite direction. Their daily briefing would begin soon.

Nick entered the huge room filled with about two dozen teeming cubicles, meandered passed two rows of them, stopped, took a right, then a left.

"Delgato, looking good!" He pointed to a lion in uniform who busily typed away on his computer. The officer waved, but otherwise said nothing, nor even looked in Nick's general direction. The fox's cubicle was only two down from his, half the size of the lion's, and directly opposing a still smaller one. Before he entered his work station, he popped into Judy's stall, ready to deliver his cargo.

"Hey Carrots, I—" The fresh sight of a gray hare stopped him. Judy's stall was already occupied by two, and one of them was instantly unfamiliar to Nick. "Oh—hey," he blurted with a shocked, toothy grin.

Judy looked surprised to see him, too, though still happy to do so, sitting comfortably in her office chair. The hare next to her stood a head taller, roughly one shorter than Nick, and was dressed in a neat, black blazer, only buttoned once, with a white collared shirt underneath, and tight, black suit pants; he wore nothing on his feet. His fur was a silvery gray complexion, and a collection of black striations waterfalled down the length of his head and shoulders. His clothing was specially fitted to suit his athletic, svelte frame, perhaps hiding something.

The hare spearheaded introductions; his fierce, blue eyes demanded attention. "Nicholas Wilde, I presume," he reached out his grayish paw with a closed grin. His voice was mature enough, but young, like milk and honey in Nick's ears. That fact irritated the fox, who, nevertheless, remained cordial. "I've heard much about you."

Judy awkwardly stood up from her chair, suddenly hesitant about something. Nick wiped his paw on his pant leg and returned the hare's friendly gesture, enveloping Jack's small paw in his own much larger mitt. They shook on it sprucely.

"Nick," Judy finally piped up. "I'd like you to meet—"

"—Jack," the hare reflexively interrupted her, "Jack Savage."

The fox nodded in confirmation to both rabbits, breaking away his grip. "Nice to finally meet you, Jack." He coughed. "Carrots here has told me you're quite the superhero, and that means you automatically get my stamp of approval. I hope that's what you always wanted."

"It's a start," Jack smirked, playing along with Nick's sarcasm. He placed his paws evenly in his pockets.

The fox pulled from his cupholder a large drink, its outside marred with plentiful streaks of black ink, and handed it to Judy.

"— Hot Fall Mocha, double-triple, red alert, with carrot juice, five shots of espresso, three pumps of syrup, in-n-out, shaken for _exactly_ thirty-two seconds—and hold the whipped cream," he finished neatly. Nick could recite her order in his sleep now, after much practice.

Judy eagerly accepted the drink. "Wow, thanks, Nick! I can't believe you got it right this time!" she beamed.

Nick greedily ate up the semi-compliment, though he could have sworn he saw Jack clenching his paw into something resembling a fist. The hare noisily cleared his throat before he motioned to leave, never wavering with his cool demeanor. Nick simply stepped aside.

"Well, I'm sure the both of you have somewhere to be," Jack said plainly, "and I don't want to hold you up."

"Wait, Jack," Judy started; she inched toward him. "You're still picking me up tonight, right?"

The hare nodded curtly, flashing handsome dimples for a jackrabbit. "Of course. Same time, same place." He gave a cursory glance to Nick, "Wilde, nice meeting you. Judy—I'll see you soon." Jack then turned and wandered off, walking with a purpose, and disappeared behind a wall of cubicles.

Nick stood bewildered, staring at his concerned friend. "Well ... that was short," he stated bluntly, finally tossing the cupholder in a nearby trash bin.

Judy sipped once from her drink, then sighed. "I wish I knew what was going on in his head sometimes."

Nick sighed as well, mirroring her. "Ehh, give it time, Carrots," he said reassuringly, changing his tone. "Where were you guys going out tonight, anyway?"

"Probably Bazibbo's ... again," she muttered, defeatedly, leaving her tiny cubicle with her fox following close behind.

"The spaghetti joint?" he asked, now getting beside her. "You hate spaghetti."

"I know ... but they have other things."

"Like what? The carrot cake?" He sipped from his coffee.

"The sushi's not bad." She took a longer sip from hers.

"You know that used to be Bellwether's favorite joint, well ... before she took an odd and sudden liking to prison food."

Judy stifled a laugh, smiling as they walked. "You're making that up."

"Am not. One hundred percent true. Foxes never lie."

Judy led the way down the main hallway. Their eyes met briefly as they walked, only for a second, before Judy playfully rolled hers.

"How did court go last week?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Wow, and here I am thinking you forgot all about that," he shot back at her, still keeping pace with the rabbit. He took another sip. "He appealed the ticket. Didn't work out well for him, though."

"You were prepared then?"

"Yep," he assured her. "I did everything my bunny told me, don't you worry." A small crowd of tall mammals gathered behind them, all in blue, some in black vests, and some chattering amongst themselves. They were all heading for the briefing room. Nick continued, "You're my secret weapon, Carrots. With you by my side, I'm practically _invincible_."

"So if we're ever caught under fire, I'm supposed to be your bunny shield?" she cocked an eyebrow at him; her question was filled with biting sarcasm.

"You know what I mean," the fox grumbled.

"Do I?" she asked mockingly.

She let her words hang in the air, pausing for a moment so it could process for Nick. They stopped at the entrance to the briefing room, letting a herd of other officers pass through. The two of them each took an overlong sip, simpering at one another.

"Yes, yes I do," she said at last, confident.

Nick only shrugged, grinning at her as they walked inside. It was 7:30, on the dot.


	6. Chapter 6

Judy felt overdressed in her long, sky-blue gown, uncomfortably stirring in her chair as they waited for their food. Two wine glasses, half-full, white plates, and fine silverware rested on the circular table between them, very low to the ground. The rabbit had difficulty focusing on Jack who was sitting across from her in his usual fine clothing, and instead let her eyes wander about the room.

Every door was enormous, big enough for an elephant to pass through comfortably, and the open-beam ceiling reached up toward heaven. A single chandelier hung low, proudly in the center of the room, about the size of a sedan, and its hundreds of lights mimicked the brightest stars at night.

"You look perfect," said Jack, breaking the tension; it seemed to work. "Can I just apologize? I'm sorry about the way I acted this morning."

"No, no," Judy responded, her ears drooped. "It's alright ... I-I know you're on a tight schedule."

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Yes, unfortunately, but you've been more than accommodating, and I'm glad for that. I wanted to make it up to you."

Judy glanced around at every mammal there, noticing something.

"Is it just me, or are there absolutely no predators here?" she asked, quite puzzled.

Jack picked up his wine glass and balanced it skillfully in his paw, swirling around the drink inside. "Yes, that's by design," he said, switching gears.

"I thought Prey-only establishments were banned in Zootopia."

"Legally, they are." Jack sipped some wine. "A predator could walk in here at any time, yes, if they so chose, and they _could not_ be turned away. They _would not_ be turned away. But a predator has never bothered trying, nor will they ever."

"So this isn't a Prey-only restaurant, then?" Her mouth twisted with suspicion.

He put his glass back down and interlocked his paws over the tiny table. "Like I said, legally—no, it is not, and it would be swiftly shut down if it openly claimed to be. However, by ... tradition, let's say, only prey are allowed to enter this establishment."

"Tradition?" she asked uneasily. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that. You do realize that I'm a police officer, right?"

Jack could tell he was losing poise; he desperately tried to salvage whatever he could of the conversation. He took a moment to collect himself, and relaxed his posture. "Judy, no one here is prejudiced towards predators. Believe me when I say that. This is just something that has been going on for generations now, and, well ... it's gotten out of our control. The owner had this place passed down to him from his deceased grandmother, and he holds no bias against predators. I've met him."

"So, Nick could come here if he wanted to?" she started, unsure. "I-if he was on a date with someone else, I mean."

The hare shrugged, thinking, "I don't see why not. We've evolved beyond such things, haven't we?"

Judy let his words digest. "I guess so."

Their food finally arrived, two platefuls of some kind of red pasta, and she struggled to show any enthusiasm toward their waiter, a well-dressed moose. He had to bend over a great distance to reach the short table, and left just as quickly as he arrived, saying nothing.

"What did you think of Nick, anyway?" Judy took a long fork and began playing with her noodles, anticipating his reaction. "He seems to like you."

"We'll see how long that lasts," he said shortly, smirking at her. "He appears to have a good head on his shoulders, I'll give him that."

"Yeah," she nodded. "But, he's been kind of distant lately. I mean, he's still the same old Nick. I think he's just lonely now that I've been so busy, and I worry about him sometimes."

"He's keeping secrets from you."

"That's ridiculous," she quipped; her steely gaze narrowed.

"That's part of my job," he fired back. "I can always tell when someone is keeping a secret."

Judy found his comment bothersome, and she had not touched her food thus far. She stirred in her seat like she was in a chair-sized mixing bowl.

"Like when I met you," the hare continued, "—you had secrets, too. Everyone does. Not all secrets are necessarily bad ones, though. It was obvious to me that you'd overcome many obstacles to get where you are, just like I had. Rabbits are always being told what they can and can't be."

"It's called life, Jack," she said, a little annoyed. "I know your job requires you to be hush-hush about most things, but you need to talk to me some time, especially if you're gonna' throw the rabbit oppression thing in my face. We've been dating for a month now and I still feel like I don't really know anything about you."

Jack retreated in his seat, something very unlike him. "I suppose that is partially my fault," he muttered, "I'm sorry, Judy, but I'm still a bit new to this."

His eyes searched the table for something that was not there, an answer.

"Fine," he finally lifted his head, and spoke a little headily, "I'm Jack Savage, fluent in four languages, literate in seven, graduated valedictorian from secondary, national champion in swimming, tennis, and cross-country, entered the academy at age fifteen, earned my bachelor's at seventeen, summa cum laude, transferred out of an accelerated Masters program on military recommendation, served six tours on four continents, directly accepted into the agency upon leaving, and I've been there for almost eleven years now."

The hare, grinning, smug, sat and waited for a response. Judy tugged at the neck of her dress and gulped. "Well," she said apprehensively, "—that's a lot to take in at once. Have you ever ... killed anyone?" She was not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"That, Judy, is classified," he said, returning to his wine. "However, my job requires that I tell you 'no'."

Judy suddenly got up from her seat, which couldn't take much more of her constant fidgeting. She looked around, struggling to conceal her distress.

"What's wrong?" asked Jack in a hurry.

"B-bathroom!" she stammered.

He pointed to the other side of the immense room, behind the chandelier, toward another huge door clearly marked for restrooms. Judy instantly left, picking up the tail of her dress, scurrying past handsomely decorated waiters and waitresses, all varying heights, colors, and species; she had only one destination in mind.

"Uh-oh," said Jack, slumping in his seat. "Maybe that was a little too much." He pulled out a black, foldable box from his coat pocket, no larger than his paw, and flipped it open. Inside, a necklace, carrying a large sapphire stone rimmed with pearly stones, sat proudly upon a white pillow. He stared it down for an answer that it would not give. "One month?" he asked the necklace. "No ... no, I don't think so. It's still too early."


	7. Chapter 7

It was chilly outside for the first time in a month, and late, around 11:30 on a Thursday night of what had been a very busy day. Tony's was eerily quiet, at least quieter than it had been in at least two weeks—save for the sound of the piano. The dog had already started closing up, as Nick sat in his usual spot at the helm of the large instrument, running through a particularly tricky solo. He was impressed with the progress he had made over the weeks, yet still frowned constantly, naggingly. He was missing something; he kept playing, not bothering to stop, never asking himself what that something was. The building was empty now except for the two of them.

Set before Nick, the sheets of music were the usual, tattered, ripped in places, emblazoned with brown stains leftover from a bygone era of Nick's youth, messily kissed by Nick's drink of choice. At the top of one page read the title of the piece, _Second Concerto;_ it was the first movement, the key was C minor, and the small name off to the side, under another coffee stain, read _S. Rammaninoff_.

This one made his paws hurt, despite steadily building up a tolerance to deal with his nightly playing, and even his wrists ached after a while. He stopped and went back over the first two minutes or so of the song, which started with slow, thick chords. He built upon them, whole notes sticking heavily on the page, increasing in volume and speed, and then after the last chord ...

... His digits quickened, nimbly running up the same flurry of notes, over and over again; he could almost hear the overemotional swelling of stringed instruments in his head, deriving their musical energy from his playing.

It sent a chill down his spine. He had fully unbuttoned his green shirt to give himself a greater reach, Tony never cared.

Nick heard the front door open and shut behind him, but he didn't pay it any mind.

He told himself to keep breathing. His paws danced across the keys with little effort, despite being sore and tired. They were growing accustomed to his constant practicing. He heard some voices speaking to Tony, saying something unintelligible, and his mind started to wander down the proverbial rabbit hole. His paws went on auto-pilot, doing the hard work without requiring any thought.

Judy, like a phantom, strobed in and out of his mind.

"Her birthday's coming soon," he mumbled to himself. He slowed down and imagined her sitting beside him, watching him play. "I wouldn't know where to start. He'll probably outdo me. I'm terrible at gifts."

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice said; there were footsteps coming up behind Nick. "Hey, it's him. Isn't that the fox that was on TV?"

Nick briefly peered over his shoulder, his playing tapered off. He was surprised, the serenity in his green eyes had vanished. Judy disappeared entirely from his thoughts. His phone started buzzing around in his pocket, and he never noticed.

"Woah, I think it is him," said a short ram. His black, silky shirt contrasted horribly with his grey sweatpants. A gold chain as thick as a garden hose hung loosely from his neck, caught in his white, tufty wool. His grassy-colored eyes peeked over his sunglasses, meeting those of Nick, who was awkwardly reminded of former Mayor Bellwether. "Definitely looks familiar," he confirmed.

His friend, another ram dressed in an equally gaudy fashion, pointed at the piano. "Sounds like he play, too," he said dimwittedly.

"H-hey guys—" Nick frantically started buttoning his shirt up, "—c-can I help you?"

"Woah-woah-woah," said the first sheep, trying to block Nick's exit. "Calm down there, buddy. We just thought you looked like someone we know. Say, you wouldn't happen to be a cop, would you?"

Nick got down from the stool. The rams were only slightly taller than him, but still intimidating. His pointy ears twitched in irritation when he saw Tony had gone back to cleaning. He donned his usual mask of hard stoicism, trying to keep cool.

"What if I am a cop?" Nick asked harshly.

The ram with the gold chain bumped his friend's shoulder. "It is him!" he exclaimed; this clearly startled Nick. "The only fox cop in Zootopia, and we find him on a whim!" He pointed to Nick with his black, cloven hoof. "Let me tell you something, fox. You saved me from a world of heartache arresting that wolf. I cried for a week straight after my Baaserati was stolen, but now it's safe at home, in my garage, and it might never see the light of day again! Hahaha!"

Nick went on the defensive and laughed along with him. He scratched the back of his head, flashing a terribly awkward and toothy smile. "Just doing my job, I guess. I honestly couldn't have done it without my partner."

"Hey, Ed," said the second ram; he took a clutch of Nick's papers from the piano. "He's playin' Rammaninoff! I thought that part sounded familiar!"

"Woah," Nick stuck out his paw, reaching for his pages. "Be careful with those, please. They're old."

"Mikey," said the ram apparently named Ed, annoyed. "The fox said hooves off the merchandise."

"Oops, sorry ..." muttered the other one. He complied, uneasily handing the pages over to Nick.

"Uhh ... don't worry about it," Nick said. "It's just that I don't exactly know you guys. Although, you seem to know me somehow. I'm sorry, I'm just not really comfortable with others touching my stuff."

Ed tugged on his gold chain, resetting it. Nick wondered how the heavy necklace could have fit around the massive curved horns jutting from his skull. The ram sighed and offered his hoof to Nick, hiding behind his thick frames. "Sorry about that, fox, and your name is?"

"You can call me Nick," the fox responded; he confidently shook Ed's hoof. "Or Officer Wilde, I suppose, whichever you prefer. And you are?"

"Ed Bellwether," said the ram plainly.

Nick felt a deep gully suddenly rise up in his stomach. "Oh ... really? Are you sure you only know me from TV?"

"Oh, don't worry," said Ed. His sunglasses purposefully hid his eyes. "Mike and I were just out around town, cuz' we had nothing better to do, strolling on by, I swear, and we heard some beautiful playing outside. So, we thought we'd pop our heads in."

"At this time of night?" Nick asked, he cocked a suspicious eyebrow. He suddenly became aware of the persistent buzzing in his pocket, but still ignored it. "How do I know you weren't out looking for me? Are you, by any chance, related to the former mayor?"

"Her?" Ed chuckled. "Oh no, no, no ... well, not directly, anyway. She's my cousin. Totally bonkers. Truthfully, I can't stand her. She ruined my family's good name." He took a single step away from Nick. "Look, officer, I'm getting the vibe that you feel we ganged up on you. Just ask Mike here, I really wanted to thank you in person for getting my car back for me. We meant no disrespect."

"Yeah, sure thing," Nick nodded, half-smiling. "I'm sorry to hear that. I understand what that's like ... h-hold on a sec." He couldn't take the buzzing any longer. He swiftly yanked the phone out of his pocket and picked up, dropping the conversation.

"Hello? Judy?

...

No, I'm not.

...

Wait, where are you right now?"

Nick glanced around the bar area, looking for the clock, and passed by the rams. He made his way towards the front door, leaving his music behind and listening to his phone intently. His ears twitched periodically; he was clearly agitated, his speech erratic.

"Okay, Carrots, just stay calm—I'll be right—yeah, just—yeah—o-okay—I'll be right there. Just, stay put. Okay?"

His awkward stumbling morphed into a sprint for the exit, dodging tables and upturned chairs. The fox never looked back as he threw open the heavy door and ran out into the chilly night. He could hear the hammering of his own heart, thumping like a timpani in his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

She was beautiful even at this distance.

That was the first thought that entered Nick's mind, and it was briskly followed by many more less pleasant ones.

Judy was sitting on a small bench, next to another one far too large for a rabbit, shivering, still in her blue gown, cellphone in her paw, alongside a quiet road, just outside of the Rainforest district maybe a mile or so from Downtown. The city skyline seemed monolithic on the horizon, a wall of lights, and tall trees swathed in vines billowed high overhead in the wind. She was a good distance from any street lamps, and her features were only visible by the light of her phone and the bluish glow of the full moon, which she stared at blankly. The sidewalks were soulless, and there was hardly anyone or anything nearby. Before her was Central Zootopia Park, an open field with sparse trees peppering the landscape.

Nick had broken numerous traffic laws getting across town this quickly. He could afford to do so, and get away with it for obvious reasons, though he honestly found her by a stroke of dumb luck, shaking his head in disbelief when he did, and clumsily parked his car under a sign clearly marked against it. He thanked himself in advance for heating up his jacket by draping it over his car's defroster, a possible fire hazard; he had been blasting the heat the whole drive there.

His dim headlights strayed off down the empty road. The lonesome rabbit, who had been sitting quite forlorn on her bench, joyfully lit up when she saw Nick get out of his steaming piece of junk.

"Hey Nick," she muttered, but he barely heard her; she offered a small, frail wave when she said his name.

"Carrots," he called out, now carrying his jacket, and she reflexively smiled at her nickname. He shut his car door with a hefty clunking noise. "Are you alright? What's going on?"

He hurried over to her and inspected what seemed like every inch of her body, then threw his much oversized jacket around her dainty shoulders. She willingly let it overtake her, blissfully drowning in its warmth. "I'm sorry, I-I'm fine," she mumbled, her eyes rolling up into her skull.

"It's alright— Is everything okay?" he asked again, plopping down next to her. "I got here as fast I could. I thought you were going out with Jack tonight, how did you end up all the way out here?"

"We did go out ... but we may have had a little fight," she responded tonelessly, still relishing the feeling of his clothing around her. "I'm sorry I called you so late, Nick. I didn't know who else to turn to."

He visibly calmed down, sighing through his snout, and scratched the fur behind his ear. "Ehh ... don't sweat it, Carrots. Just consider yourself lucky that neither of us has work tomorrow." He peered up and down the road, looking around. "Still, how the heck did you end up out here? Please tell me he didn't leave you out all by yourself."

Judy glanced at him with sleepy, half-shut eyes. "No," she said quietly. "I told him I'd walk home, which was a lie. I just needed some space from him. He didn't take it too well. And let's just say dinner was rough on me. I forgot it was so cold outside."

Nick playfully rolled his eyes and rested his arm on the jacket surrounding her. "And you called me?" he asked. "I'm flattered, Carrots, really. You haven't said anything to me outside of work for two weeks. I was worried I was losing touch with my little fluff-bunny." Judy remained quiet, so he started tapping her shoulder in a musical rhythm. "So, was I right? Was it the spaghetti joint? I could see why dinner would be 'rough'." he joked.

"No, actually. He's just so difficult sometimes." She sounded a bit angry. "It all started with this place he picked, which he said — in passing — was a prey-only restaurant."

"Those would be illegal," Nick chimed in.

"He said that too," she admitted. "But then he said it was because of 'traditions' and not by any rule or law."

"I know where you went," he said in an uncharacteristically grim tone.

"You do?" she asked, churning in his jacket. Their eyes slowly met, glinting in the moonlight at each other. Nick answered nothing in response, so she continued. "I didn't know those existed. I felt so uncomfortable, Nick. And—then he finally told me why he came to Zootopia."

Nick's ear twitched, as he was plainly curious. "And what did he say?"

"He said he was investigating the Bellwether family," she turned back to the road, letting the moon shine down on her as if for dramatic effect. "He was stationed here to spy on them, to see if they are engaging in any further criminal activity. He made me swear not to tell anyone, not even you, and that's when our fight started." She paused, and sighed at length, sinking into his jacket. "And I guess I did break my promise just now, but I trust you, Nick, with everything ... so, maybe he was right to yell at me."

Nick shook his head. "Absolutely not," said the fox, pulling her closer. "That's what I'm here for, remember? He shouldn't have yelled at you, definitely, but maybe you can make up and give him another chance. Huh? How about that?"

Judy nervously bit her lip, as if his answer wasn't the one she really wanted. "I yelled at him too ... but okay," she finally conceded. "I will. I'll give him one more chance."

Nick nodded in agreement, even though what she said was also not the answer he really wanted. "Great," he said painfully. "I'm sure you guys will make up and be back together in no time at all. You bunnies are known for that kind of thing."

Judy looked up at him, half-smiling. "Do you know something, Nick?" she muttered again, carefully sneaking a peek at his straight jawline. "I'm not so sure of everything sometimes, not like you are." Their sleepy eyes met again. "But I've always been sure of you."

Nick could not help but peek at her lips as well, stealing glances he was not meant to have, needing something that did not belong to him. An urge chewed at his core, it was something instinctual, and his heart fluttered; he leaned forward as a flurry of thoughts raced through his mind, and his lips unconsciously quivered in anticipation.

But he stopped.

He only smiled at her. "Why don't I take you home, Carrots?" was all he said.

Judy smiled too, unaware they were both feeling all of the same things. "Okay," she finally agreed, sighing breathlessly.


	9. Chapter 9

A package arrived at the Zootopia Police Department, and this was news in itself, spreading like wildfire about the office.

No, packages being received at the department was not altogether something new, and nothing about this one was noteworthy, not its crumpled, manilla hide, nor its ornately signed address information, and certainly not its rather plain size, about the width and length of printing paper. But it was addressed to Nick Wilde, and that was enough to stir a buzz.

He ignored everyone that morning.

The fox sat in his chair, in his cubicle, without his bunny sitting in the tinier one across from his, holding the simple package in his ruddy paws.

Judy was late. Oddly late, too.

"Ed Bellwether," Nick read the stylish signature to himself. "Sure caused a lot of _malarkey_ for me to deal with. I hope it was worth it." He slit the top seam open with a black claw and shook out the contents over the already cluttered area beside his computer. A short stack of white papers, held together with a tiny paperclip, tumbled out onto the desk; he scooped them up and unceremoniously slid the manilla sheathe into the wastebasket.

He started reading, having trouble making out some of the letters. "Ok, let's see here, 'Dear Nick Wilde of the Zootopia Police Department, hereinafter 'Nick''," the fox rolled his eyes. "'I hope this message finds you well, as I am sorry for the brevity of our encounter several nights ago.' — Wow, did he have his secretary write this for him? — 'Enclosed is a proposal I would like you to consider, as you may find it to your liking. Of course, you will see that you are under no obligations to accept. However, if you would like to discuss terms, or have any questions, please feel free to contact my secretary' — I knew it — 'If you wish to make an appointment, her number is at the bottom of this page. Also, you can always just stop by for dinner, Nick. Sorry for the formalities. Thank you, and we look forward to hearing from you.'"

Nick saw the name again, Ed Bellwether, signed in glossy black ink at the bottom of the sheet. He peeled it back to reveal the heading of the next page, then swiftly scanned its entirety.

"What is this? A contract?" he asked himself, just above a whisper; he cautiously flipped through the other pages. "It keeps mentioning the Opera house in Downtown, but wasn't that abandoned decades ago? This is too weird. We just met by coincidence and this is already the kind of stuff he's pulling?"

He set the packet down and leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering, letting everything digest. A selfie that Judy had taken of them together caught his flickering green eye, the one where she smiled from ear to ear; he had messily — but proudly — taped it to the top of his monitor. He sat for a minute, wondering if was doing the right thing.

"Nick?" came her cheerfully familiar voice. The fox, who had already started the process of some fanciful daydreaming, quickly spun around in his chair with pointed ears standing at attention. Judy stood in his doorway, already suited up in her vest and ready to go, beaming at him.

"Hey, Carrots." He smiled too. "Your drink might be a little cold by now." He took a foam cup from the edge of the table and handed it over. As always, she gladly accepted.

"Thanks, Nick," she said plainly, now getting used to his morning ritual. "This is the best part of my day, honestly. Where's yours?"

"I already drank mine." He lied, pay day was tomorrow and he only had enough money to buy hers. "Feeling any better today?"

"Yeah, I am," she nodded, sipping her drink. "I met him this morning and we talked for a while. I'm going to take your advice."

"You have that much trust in me?" he asked sarcastically. "Hopefully you're reading the terrain as you go, and not just blindly following. That wouldn't be the rabbit I know."

"No, this is my own choice," she said, standing her ground. "We both apologized like adults, and we're going out again on Friday. I just wanted to thank you, Nick."

The fox shrugged in his seat, deflecting the compliment. "Just your friendly, neighborhood, dumb fox; at your service." He never stopped smiling. Simply seeing her happy made him happy too.

"Well ..." she motioned to leave, "... aren't you coming, Officer Wilde?" she asked mockingly.

He waved his paw. "Why don't you go ahead, Carrots, and I'll catch up in a second."

"Suit yourself," she casually agreed.

But as she started walking away, she heard the faint sound of rustling papers from his cubicle, causing her to tiptoe back. The rabbit stealthily spied on him, not attracting any attention from other officers. Her large, furry ears honed in on him; Nick had no clue he was being studied.

Judy had eavesdropped on someone else on her way into the office, remembering what they had said about Nick receiving something in the mail. She had brushed the comment aside before, trusting him to tell her whatever it was on his own, so she was surprised when she saw him sneakily sliding some papers under his keyboard.

The fox groaned, lurching back in his chair, and irritably massaged his temples. "What should I do?" he muttered to no one in particular. "I guess it couldn't hurt to call, maybe later today? — I don't know."

Nick then regained his composure and stood up, frightening Judy, forcing her to bolt off and hide while struggling in vain not to spill her coffee. He emerged from his personal space, humming to himself, tapping on his pant leg in a rhythm he felt with his heart, and he strolled off down past the rows of other cubicles, blissfully carefree and unaware of his surroundings.

Judy remained plastered against a wall until he had gone, holding her breath just around the corner. No one had seen; sometimes her small stature was a gift. She slunk back to his area as silently as her tiny feet could manage.

It all seemed as though nothing had changed, but she knew better. She lifted the keyboard, finding a white, folded stack underneath. Something yellow in the trash caught her eye too, which she recognized as the packaging.

"The Bellwether family?" she whispered, pawing through the pages. "What would _they_ want with Nick?"


	10. Chapter 10

It was a Thursday afternoon, and sunny.

Nick thought it was a pretty odd time for Ed's schedule to be free. Even stranger still was the odd way in which his secretary phrased it.

"He'll be with other clients until then," Nick repeated that piece to himself while he rolled up his window with the crank, and shifted his clunker of a car into Park. "What does that even mean?"

The street was broad, newly paved, and the freshly mowed lawns of every home were still very green, despite the new season. Mansions loomed tall everywhere around him, miles outside of Downtown; this was the nice part of Zootopia, certainly wealthier than the nicest suburbia. The leaves of methodically placed oak trees twinkled in the sun, silhouetted under blankets of oranges, reds, and yellows. October was nearing its end.

Nick was surprised there were no gates to pass through, not even a fence, but, thankfully, the driveway was short. He walked by a stone face as large as a king bed, engraved with a fancy looking 'B', standing proudly, just at the end of the drive. The trek to the front door was uneventful and quiet, but pleasant. The whole way his furry, auburn feet crumpled leaves that were of the exact same color. He noticed the silver sports car too, the stolen one he and Judy had stopped, sitting outside the quadruple-door garage; it looked shined up and fixed. He found it increasingly difficult not to feel intimidated, almost forgetting he was an off-duty police officer.

He walked up a short flight of rustic-looking, red-brick stairs, and knocked on the doors — which were huge — in quick succession. Once again donning his trademark mask of stoicism, his game face, he waited. Something could be heard inside, a series of thumping, footsteps, getting louder as it approached the door.

Then it jerked open, and there stood a sharply dressed ram ready to meet him. The fox almost didn't recognize Ed.

"Nick," greeted the ram happily; his voice was different too, youthful, and his accent a little more proper and reserved. He gestured for the fox to come in, to which he complied. "Hey, good to see you."

"Hey Ed," Nick confidently replied as they shook paw and hoof. "So sorry about the other night. My partner was in a bit of a bind." He lied; he wasn't sorry at all.

The foyer was truly immense, brightly lit by an ornate chandelier, and the ceiling loomed high over their heads. Twin sets of spiraling staircases went up to an overlook on the second floor, and paintings were hung about on every wall. The home radiated a powerful sense of opulence, and its size seemed more fitting for elephants than sheep.

"Looks like you've fallen on hard times," Nick joked.

Ed laughed, though not as much as the fox had hoped for. He wore a casual, black suit, and started adjusting his cuff links. His puffy wool was almost bursting out at the seams, and his gold chain was missing. "You'd be surprised, Nick. This could all go in an instant if my family's not careful, and there are many who'd be thrilled to see that happen."

"You didn't mention that before," Nick said, trying to remember. "So, what _exactly_ was that contract you sent to me in the mail? And why did you?—If you don't mind me asking."

"So eager," Ed grinned. "I like that. You're full of spunk for a fox, Nick, or are all foxes just like that?" He finished awkwardly fiddling with his links. "Sorry, I know this must look weird to you. I don't have too many friends left." That statement made the fur on the back of Nick's neck stand up. "To get right to the chase, Nick — I need your help."

"My help?" Nick asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," Ed confirmed. "I have investors that I need to keep happy, otherwise we stand to lose everything. When my cousin, the former mayor, did what she did and put a stigma forever on the name _Bellwether ..._ well, let's just say that things haven't been so great since then."

"Do you blame me for that?" Nick's feet fidgeted, stepping back away from the ram.

"Oh no, not at all." Ed shook his horned head again. "Someone would have figured it out sooner or later. Actually, if you hadn't uncovered her plot when you did, the damage to our reputation could have been that much worse — we would have never recovered."

Nick stood a little straighter, regaining a tiny shred of confidence. "That's good, I suppose."

"I'd say so," Ed admitted. "But tell me, Nick, have you ever performed on a stage before? Like a REAL stage, in front of a crowd full of people?"

"No," the fox said evenly.

"Would you like to?" Ed asked sharply. "Because, if you did, then we could potentially help each other out."

Nick's gaze wandered to an empty corner of the room as he thought, afraid of giving a straightforward answer. "I'm not sure, I don't really think I can play to that level yet."

Ed shrugged, and his suit jacket fell an inch. He placed a hoof on Nick's shoulders while he sulked. "C'mon, Officer Wilde," said the ram. "I have something I want to show you."

Nick followed the ram past the foyer, past a kitchen full of glossy, granite countertops, with the smell of coffee and sweets filling his nostrils. It was wonderful. His enjoyment was cut short as they entered the next room, overlooking a long, blue swimming pool in the backyard. The windows were taller than both of them, swallowing up three of the four walls, bathing the room in soft, afternoon sunlight. And quietly sitting there, dominating the room with its presence, was the largest piano Nick had ever laid eyes on.

He couldn't steal his eyes away.

"Woah," said the fox as he exhaled; he was almost afraid to approach it. "It's beautiful."

Ed confidently meandered over to the instrument and pretended to inspect it, taking great pleasure in witnessing Nick's reaction. The fox followed suit, tiptoeing his way around it, nervous to lay even a single claw on it. The wood was a glossy jet black, almost like it had been shaped from volcanic glass.

The ram pulled out something from his left coat pocket, which Nick noticed, and handed it to the bewildered fox. "Tell me, what do you think of this setlist, Nick?"

The white piece of paper was folded twice, neatly, and Nick noisily straightened it out. He read it over, his features remaining expressionless; it was Ed's turn to be confused.

"Anything you want to add?" he asked.

"Maybe two things," said Nick after several seconds, sarcastic.

"Name it," Ed said in all seriousness. "Anything you want, but can you play everything on the list?"

The fox tilted his head while he scanned it, buried in thought, weighing his own skill versus what was being demanded of him. It was an unexpected question. The names and pieces on the list would require a professional orchestra, and an even more professional pianist.

"When?" Nick asked, sounding apprehensive.

"About a month from now."

"Do you have the music?"

"Yes."

"And what about the other parts?"

"Leave that to me," Ed affirmed.

"Where?" Nick started to fold the paper back up and placed it in the pocket of his green shirt.

"The Opera House, Downtown," Ed looked surprised. "I thought I put that in the document."

"You barely gave any specifics," Nick quipped. "Other than that you required my 'services', I was completely in the dark about any of this. I had no idea that place was even open to the public. It's had scaffolding around it for years."

"You're right, it's not open," said Ed, nodding. "Not yet anyway, but it will be. I bought it recently."

"What?" Nick winced. "I thought you were in trouble with money. How could you—"

"Like I said earlier, Nick," the ram smiled as he interrupted. "My investors; I have to make wise decisions, or they pull out. That's our arrangement. It's what I studied at the school of commerce, and I'm very good at it. My family's been doing this for generations, while also dabbling in politics here and there, and sometimes we do afford some criticism — we hear the term 'conflict of interest' thrown around occasionally. But that's the dishonest side of the family." He placed a hoof on the piano, now ignoring it, looking the fox dead in the eye. "You were a decision I made, Nick; you're a predator, a police officer, and I think a wonderful player ... so, I'm taking a chance on you."

Nick's heart was giving him mixed signals, churning around in his chest. He wasn't quite sure this is what he wanted, as if the weight of the world was being thrust upon his shoulders, and his mouth began to feel watery.

And he remembered Judy.

"No pressure, Ed," he joked again, casually brushing off the knot in his stomach. The ram could tell he was still unconvinced.

He then felt the inside of his black coat, the right side this time, looking for something, and finally pulled out a stack of green. Ed wordlessly gave the bundle of money over to Nick. The fox cautiously accepted it and flipped over the neatly wrapped bills in his paws, eyeing them closely, nearly speechless.

"This is ..." Nick searched for the words as he inspected, "... this is like six month's pay. I can't take this."

"Nonsense — just consider it advance," Ed smirked. "Or, compensation for meeting with me today. Whichever you prefer. You can keep all of it even if you decline my offer, and I will never expect to be reimbursed. Although, I think it would be a great loss to the people of Zootopia to lose out on a talent such as yourself."

"Lose out?" the fox asked.

"Nick," Ed stifled a laugh, motioning for them both to leave. "Let me tell you a story."


End file.
